Most of the time spend in and out of school is losing myself in daydreams. Like most teen girls, I think about my friends and my busy life, but today I had a different thought.
I was walking in a store when I saw an amazingly beautiful person. Her skin was wrinkled with time and delicate lines carved around her eyes when she beamed a radiant smile. This person was not especially tall, nor short. She did not have a typically Hollywood figure, but she was entirely beautiful in the most different way.
Everywhere we look, posters of suggesting women cover the walls. Commercials for products to fight aging overwhelm young people. What are we so afraid of today? Do we fear that age and experience, leading to maturity, will eliminate all adventure from our life? Do women fear that looking their age will make them any less beautiful.
That leads me to my question...What is beautiful? Is beautiful what appears to our eyes, or what is seen with the soul and the eyes cannot recognize? Why are we so pressured to look the look? My personal opinion is that we should spend more time becoming a better person, become that best friend we are all looking for, and maybe those who can see will recognize the beauty radiating from our character.
For those who know me, this might sound a little hypocritical. I too spend over enough time in the mirror, but I do try not to make appearance my focus. What would the world be like if we took away all cosmetics? Would there be a huge shock factor...Wow! You have wrinkles!...Look at all those greys!...Or would our attention focus on a much deeper concept?
Hollywood and literature both have interesting tales of people seeking an elixir, or immortality. It is all so interessting, but why not enjoy youth when you have it and refuse to fear aging. That is, aging on the outside. A youthful heart full of spirit , energy and freedom is always good to have...but why worry about fine lines or silver hair? Maybe in time we will all start to recognize a different kind of beauty and none of that will seem to matter anymore.
Would I want to be my age forever. Probably not. Someday I would like to braid my white hair over my shoulder as I sit on the porch in my rocking chair and remember the good ol' days and smile. But hey, everyone is different. That's just me a grandma thinking...